


Dance for me

by Gospa



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan) RPF
Genre: F/M, Sex, Smut, ocxjoker, shortfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 16:48:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1395043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gospa/pseuds/Gospa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane carries out her job giving slips to the people in her father's apartment building, but when a man in one of the apartments refuses to accept them. She accidentally thrusts herself into a game of cat and mouse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dance for me

* * *

 

Money made the world go round.

Jane had been brought up in that sense; after all she came from a poor family, which wouldn’t be that bad, but she lived in Gotham. If you were poor in Gotham than it was gangs for boys and the sex trade for girls.

That was the way it was.

Only rich people moved to Gotham, it was easy for them to move to the rich and lush side of Gotham. But you take one wrong turn and you end up in the dark streets filled with violence and rape.

Smart people moved out.

Jane however, could not.

This was her home now.

Her dirty, filthy, smelly, rotten home.

It was her duty to help, her mother worked all day at the store and her father owned this small sleazy apartment building. Sure, it was disgusting, the floors were cracked and the ceiling was probably filled with asbestos, but there weren’t blood stains and broken doors, which alone made it better than most of the buildings in Gotham.

However, there was this one problem.

_This one apartment._

She was eighteen years old, she had grown up watching her father take the rent and count the money. She had seen her parents fight and yell over how much they had and how much they needed. It was her duty to remind people that their rent was due, she never knocked and talked. Her parents had taught her better than that, danger lurked behind every door.

She slid the paper under the door, the reminder. It had the money that needed to be paid, the date and a warning of what would happen if the money was not paid.

She did that, once every two to three weeks.

 _However_ , there was this one apartment.

The first month, it had been nothing. She would slide the paper underneath the door and everything was alright. The third time she did it, nothing happened, she left on her merry way. So she left, and a day later when she walked past it, something caught her attention.

It was there.

In the hallway.

In front of the door.

 _The note_.

The girl was young, but her eyebrows furrowed and an expression crossed her face you could only see in an old angry woman. She brushed it off and simply flicked the note back under the door. Waiting a minute or two to make sure the note wouldn’t appear again, she eventually stood and made her way—

 _Pwoosh_.

It was further this time, half way across the hall; as if the person had deliberately flicked it as hard as he could.

Her hand tensed into a fist.

 _Do not knock_.

That was what she had been taught. This girl had grown up being taught not to talk to strangers, not to ask for help, not to walk alone at night. This had protected her, she had never been raped or hurt, but it had scarred her. She had been taught to live in fear, to hide.

She could not knock.

 _The money though_.

The money her family needed.

It was just a note though; it did not mean the person wouldn’t pay the rent.

Her mouth formed a thin line.

She took the note and slid it back under the door and walked away as if she couldn’t hear it being flicked back out.

* * *

 

The fourth month was when she decided it was enough.

Jane had consulted her father about this, but once he found out which apartment was he just kept telling her to ignore it and if it was really that much of a problem to just stop sliding him notes. It was after that she had grown more suspicious of the person in the apartment. She wondered if he even paid his rent, but if he didn’t, why would her father let him stay?

It took her more than a little courage to stand before the door, note in hand and knock.

It was a soft nervous knock.

No answer.

Just like that, her moment of temporary confidence drained.

Her lips pursed and the girl looked around her, no one.

She had decided to do this in the early afternoon, after all when darkness fell , criminals rouse. That and she had an appointment at her school in an hour so she would already be ready.

Inhaling deeply and with the slip in her pocket, Jane knocked again, louder.

No one.

In a fit of frustration she grabbed the door knob and jerked, expecting it to be locked and a wasted struggle. However in the process she ended up opening and rattling the door. Before Jane could comprehend what she had done a flash of fur sped out of the apartment.

Turning her head sharply to the object, she saw a feral cat sprinting down the hall.

Jane turned back towards the doorway, sliding her hands off the door knob she let the door open on its own.

The carpets were grey, the walls were white, and the hall was empty. It was the normal design for each apartment; there were no photos or pictures on the walls however. She turned her head; she should close the door and leave.

If god wanted her to enter that apartment, he would’ve given her a sign.

 _Meow_.

A louder sign.

 ** _Meow_**.

The distressed meowing was coming from inside the apartment.

She was no hero, in fact she was rarely outspoken. Truth be told, she was probably one of the most passive people in her school, but hell would have to freeze over before she would let an animal get hurt. Given, she wasn’t that fond of cats. But then again she wasn’t really fond of breaking into people’s apartments, yet here she was.

Her father was the owner of the apartment building, it was the middle of the day, she was only trying to help the cat. These were the things Jane kept telling herself, repeating in her head like a prayer.

It was cold inside.

There was hardly anything in the apartment, she came to notice. There was a cheap couch, a small table and a cheap TV. It wasn’t on. Jane took that as a good sign; that could mean the person wasn’t home. She ignored the hollow kitchen and went straight to the pale door where the distraught meowing was loudest.

Jane only realised then how anxious she was, she took the door knob and was trying desperately to open so she could get out. The door knob however was coated with some form of liquid which she didn’t want to even think about, pulling her sleeve down to cover her hand and finally opening the door she let the cat out.

Thank you friction.

The cat looked to be feral too and didn’t save her a glance before running off.

Her eyes followed the matted feline behind her and halted when she saw legs.

Her eyes flicked upwards without even checking the man’s body, all she could see was brown.

Dark, brown eyes.

She could not count how many times she had looked into brown eyes, her mother, her teachers, her best friends. They were chocolate and caramel colours, warm and lush with a sense of friendliness. These were not the eyes she was looking into now. They were not soft with warmth, they were soft with calm. The calm you see in a snake before it spits venom or a lion watching a weaker animal.

They were the colour of chaos.

And she was lost in it.

“Having fun?” His voice was hoarse.

“I—…”

His jaw was strong, his eyes were narrow. His nose had the sort of curve to it not many could pull off which complimented his mouth. Yes, those were the lips girls didn’t know whether they wanted to have or to have on them.  A collared shirt and dark pants hugged his firm and hard looking body, perhaps if he was a tad taller he would be the most intimidating person in Gotham. But he was not, and the scar cut deep through his mouth was just enough.

“Looking for something?” His grin was the grin of a fox.

“I… The cat…”

“Yes.” He licked his lips seemingly out of habit. “I noticed.”

She took the slip out of her pocket as if it was a knife and stuck it closed the small space between them with her arm.

He looked at it as if it was foreign.

“I noticed you weren’t accepting these.” She was surprised by her own steady voice.

He looked at it before looking up at her and gave her a smile she had seen on so many boys in high school, meaning: _so_?

She inhaled. “I… You, you need to keep these.”

“Not really.” He replied in a hoarse tone.

Mouth slightly agape she tried to find the words “you, you live in this apartment building…”

He nodded as if confirming.

“You… Therefore...” this was a mistake. “need to… hang onto these...”

A short silence hovered and all Jane could think about was how pathetic she sounded and if the man pulled out a knife and stabbed her in the throat she wouldn’t blame him.

And then he laughed.

The sort of laugh by a normal man, perhaps even a father, hearing a joke with his friends: The loud and relaxed laugh of a man who had everything in place, and at that moment the only thing important was that joke.

It was frightening and erotic all at once. Something about the situation and the man summoned a fragment of an urge she didn’t recognise.

“You’re pretty stupid.” He walked closer forcing her to take down her arm. “I kinda like that.”

Now he was closer she could examine the scars, they were brutal. They didn’t even look like they had been fixed by a proper surgeon. It was when she realised how much lifted her head was that this man was about a head taller than her.

She said nothing.

“Are you scared?” He asked loudly in a sort of manner she should’ve been offended by.

She said nothing.

She didn’t have to.

“So, why are you still here?” He smirked. “what are you waiting for?”

She pushed him back with the hand that held the slip. “You live in this apartment building its time you start abiding the rules and just act like an orderly… apartment person! Don’t make me come back here.”

Her words her rushed and her exist was even more so.

The man watched the young woman leave and close the door as gently as she could give her speed, only after looking down did her realise she had purposely left the slip at his feet. With a raised eyebrow and a curios smirk he picked it up.

* * *

 

She dreamt that night.

Jane didn’t remember the last time she had a dream, every time she closed her eyes all she found was darkness and then the new day. It was like clockwork; wake up, school, friends, home, and sleep. This time though images polluted her mind.

Images of him.

Images of him and her.

His hands and his manhood all over and in her.

What a sweet nightmare it had been.

* * *

 

 _He was mocking her_.

That or he was challenging her.

She couldn’t decide which was worse.

The slip had once again been found outside his apartment, she had slid it back under, yet again it was found outside. She let it go that time out of caution, but this was the second time and she was losing her patience.

You know, come to think of it, she had never even confronted him about why the cats were in his apartment in the first place.

The thought of knocking on his door and confronting him sent a wave of turmoil through her gut. She remembered his expression, his scars, and the thought of what could happen to her if she did confront a man like that sent a very different feeling through her. Her head was filled with all of these possibilities of what he could be or do, her simple and routine life had an order.

An order which he had upset.

Eventually she had convinced herself for the sake of her father she needed to confront this man. His actions were not only rude and disrespectful, but above all childish.

She had noticed, the man never came out of his apartment. Not that she was spying. Maybe he did, maybe it was just here that never saw.

Knocking on the door she waited patiently, it was once again in the afternoon and she was prepared. Standing there in her carefully planned clothes and war face, she held tight to the note, like a business woman.

Minutes passed and it got to the point where she felt like a fool, perhaps she should just leave.

He was probably behind the door snickering at her, she thought twisting her lips.

As per usual, as soon as she gave up, he appeared. The door opened loosely and fast as if she was delivering him pizza and he had been waiting for hours. He leaned against the door frame his unruly hair cupping his unamused face.

“You knocked, honey?”

Her lips tightened together before she could speak. “The reminder.” she held the note out.

He looked at it, then at her, then sighed. “Are we going to keep playing this game?”

She looked surprised. “I… What do you mean?”

“Are you going to keep stalking me, babe?” He smirked and got more comfortable against the frame. “Don’t get me wrong I’m flattered, a handsome piece of man-meat living in the same building as you, an little pretty thing who’s probably never even been touched” Her stomach churned. “But it’s getting pretty tiring, and boring”

Jane was speechless.

“Hello?”  He waved a hand in front of her face.

“Excuse _you_!” Anger flashed in her eyes, which he had not expected. “You’re the one that started this! You didn’t even have to push the slip out! You could’ve just put it in the bin—

“Excuse me young lady.” He interrupted in his hoarse voice. “but weren’t you the one that broke into my apartment?”

“Only because there was a fucking cat in your bathroom!” Jane replied quickly, she didn’t quite remember the last time she had sworn. “What was it even doing there?!”

“Ah” He held his head back. “That, yes.” He approached her slightly. “It was in my bathroom, in fact god knows what else I keep in my bathroom.” He grinned. “anything or _anyone._ ”

She was so taken with his face, Jane only realised then his hand was caressing the end of her skirt.

He was meaning to scare her, she knew that. He wanted to watch her run and never return, so he could go back to his lonesome existence.

How dare he?

She was raised in fucking Gotham.

It’ll take more than some man that doesn’t know how to socialize poking at her skirt.

“I’m not scared of you.” She stated stoically.

“You’re a fool.” He said slowly. “Are you waiting for something?”

“You to let go.” She replied.

He looked almost surprised. “Oh?” He took the slip out of her hands. “My mistake, I could’ve sworn you looked excited.”

He left, shutting the door.

* * *

 

_His name was Jack._

It became part of their routine.

She would arrive at his door and he would take the slip, sometimes she would comment about how terrible he looked or he would say something inappropriate.

At night she found herself dreaming of a day where she would open the door and he would pull her in, sometimes she would be the one to open the door and it would be he standing there. Her mind started to cloud and the weeks dragged on she became worried, surely, she couldn’t be developing feelings for that pig.

Scenarios ran through her mind.

If she was older.

If he was younger.

 Just the image of his scarred face was enough to have her biting her lips.

Though she knew it wasn’t love.

He was Gotham personified; dirty, unruly, uncaring, merciless, and that was what made it so alluring.

* * *

 

He wasn’t answering, it was unacceptable.

She refused to believe he had gone anywhere.

This had happened before once or twice and after five minutes knocking she had given up and slid the note under his door. As expected she had walked back an hour or day later and it was outside the door, in the hall. So as expected she had to knock and physically give it to him for it to be accepted.

Testing the door handle she found it to be unlocked, taking this as a sign she slowly walked into the hall she had only seen for a long time. Jane would leave the slip on the counter and go, she was not sliding it under the door one more time.

Looking around she noticed the place was less messy than last time, though it still looked vaguely empty.

Suddenly temptation was at every corner, all those questions and curiosities about this man could be answered if only she explored a bit. Of course, Jane could simply ask him, but… She knew men like him; she had read them in books; the type of man to treat you like a game. Asking him a question would be like putting him in the lead, there would be no way he would give her a proper one anyway. She knew.

“My, _my._ ”

She turned

“Why aren’t I surprised?” With a towel on his shoulder and wet hair he stared.

His grin was foxy and stretched out his scars giving him a dangerous look. If she wanted to, she could easily walk into the hall and out of the apartment. But she didn’t.

“You weren’t answering.” Jane said.

“You really need to learn about breaking and entering.” He studied her.

“You need to learn about opening the door.” She retorted.

“I was showering.”

She said nothing.

“Are you waiting for something?” He said after a while.

The man approached her examining her face like it was a language he wanted but couldn’t read. Still she said nothing, finding herself leaning on the kitchen counter Jane remembered all the dreams she had had of a situation like this insinuating. In her dreams she was excited, in her dreams she was in control. She was not in control here; she was not in her dream.

“You know what I think?” His voice got higher in a playful tone. “You’re quite the little masochist, starting these games, confronting me, challenging me. You’re a little adrenaline junkie aren’t you?”

She said nothing.

“Tell me.” He was so close now. “Tell me what you’re waiting for.”

He wanted to hear it.

He wanted to hear her beg.

She would not beg, however Jane didn’t know if it was because of her pride or her heart beating like a drum that didn’t allow her to speak. A part of her hoped he would give up and leave, more than that she hoped he wouldn’t, and she knew, he wouldn’t.

His face was getting closer, until the girl was looking away and he was basically breathing in her scent. Turning to her, searching the left side of her face for something, something he did not find. So he travelled, his hand taking her jaw and lifting it, breathing in her neck, sliding his tongue down her collar bone.

She didn’t resist, he knew she wouldn’t.

Using the other hand he grabbed her thigh, just to see her reaction. Jane closed her eyes and inhaled deeply like a man before surgery, yet she held no resistance. Not quite satisfied with that reaction he pulled up her thigh and shoved her backwards onto the counter.

She opened her eyes to the sound of her shirt being tugged, Jane found her blouse unbuttoned, her skirt was gone, on the floor. His slim fingers had already found themselves to her panties and were rubbing her womanhood more so for him to see what he was dealing with than her pleasure.  

This man was the first to touch her.

He would be the first to leave marks on her, and she knew, he would leave marks.

She could only hear the whimpers coming out of her mouth as he fingered her; only feel his hand around her throat and the wetness inside her that was coming. Jane’s hips twisted this way and that, as if every time he touched her she was getting burned.

His fingers were thrusting inside of her while his teeth scraped her young breasts, biting and nipping on her nipples. It was soft at first, but it soon it turned rough and he kept pulling at her breasts with his mouth, biting then sucking, pain and pleasure.

Jane opened her mouth to speak but his hand around her throat tightened.

“Did I say you could speak?” He raised himself and looked down at his work.

She was already in heat, her thighs open to his will.

It was with his hang tightly around her neck, like some sort of animal; he undid his pants and took out his cock. Jane couldn’t look down, her head was held back, but she heard the zip being undone and knew what was happening.

He didn’t even give any hint of what was happening except for spreading her thighs.

She felt the tip rub up against her opening; her heart beat like a drum, out of both excitement and fear.

It entered slowly, she hadn’t expected that. Jane had thought he would probably just slam it into her and fuck her dry like that. Jane could feel her insides stretching out as he was going in further, her hips protested out of reflex. The man gripped her neck tighter with every inch deeper. There would be bruises there at least.

She whimpered when he stopped, the tip of his cock rubbing against something inside her that felt painful. Jack thrust in a bit feeling her out, as if he was still trying to decide if she was comfortable enough to fuck. He did end up deciding though, and before she could make a sound he pulled out and thrust in.

It hurt, the sound that came out of her mouth made that obvious.

He didn’t seem to care though, thrusting outwards and back in he was still unsatisfied and repeated about twice before something finally broke inside her walls. They layer she had felt, the part where the pain had been, it had separated them. Now he could truly enter her.

Jane gasped and panted with her hands around his wrist. Her insides squirmed in protest to what was happening but even now, knowing if she wanted to she could rip his hand off her neck and push him off, she did not.

He went back to biting at her breasts while pumping into her, Jane’s head was turning left and right to find a position comfortable but honestly she could have had her head on her mother’s lap and still the only thing she would feel was his cock beating into her.

 _Faster_.

It came out as a thin whisper, something she couldn’t hold down.

He had heard it before she did, his brown eyes snapped towards her red face and quivering lips. The only thing she could see was his grin, the grin of a devil.

And for once; he obliged.

This was sex.

She had known so many girls who spoke of making love and no sex until marriage. Oh, how pathetic they looked in that moment, and how much more sense all those prostitutes and disgusting men seeking them made.

The girl didn’t know exactly when the pain had turned into this ecstasy, but she found herself spreading her thighs further and raising her hips, arching her back and holding onto her own breast while he tormented the other.

Her nails starts to grab at the counter, whether it was because of the fact she could hardly breathe or she was reaching her orgasm was unsure.

Jane’s hands made knuckles and when she did experience the climax and that disgusting pig of a man letting loose inside of her, she had squeezed her hands so tight that she was so sure her nails had broken skin.

He waited no moment to thrust into her again for added pleasure or admire the mess he had made, the man left her there, zipping himself up and smoothing back his hair.

He went back to his room.

* * *

 

Jane no longer went to Jack’s apartment whenever the slip needed to be handed; sometimes she would go to him as much as every day of the week. Sometimes only once every two weeks.

She let him fuck her; she let him leave those disgusting bruises and marks around her neck and chest. Sometimes she couldn’t sit properly or walk comfortably.

Nonetheless she went to him.

In the dark sides of Gotham everyone had once or twice experienced drugs, Jane used to pride herself on staying sober. But it seemed she had gotten herself addicted to the most dangerous kind, a man. Not only that but he would inject himself with drugs, sometimes he would watch her smoke them and then fuck her against a wall while she was still high.

It carried on like that, her parents argued with her and her friends nagged.

So many questions.

She just wished they would shut the fuck up.

Now…  She sat in his apartment.

Half a year after this arrangement began; she sat in his apartment, needy.

Jane knew he wouldn’t come though.

The apartment was empty.

The little furniture he had had was gone, the girl knew it hadn’t been her father who kicked him out. Her father didn’t even know, he didn’t even suspect. It was getting dark too, the rain would probably fall. She had sat there for three hours.

He hadn’t said goodbye.

Jane knew this would happen, or something of the sort. She had set herself up to fall, climbing the ladder and knowing it lead nowhere. She still climbed, perhaps for the view. Though looking around the dingy apartment she knew the view wasn’t much worth it. She doubted she could ever go back to who she was.

Everything had changed when she had seen his face during those news reports, bandits and killers showing up to police stations. And that new fool they called the Batman, some vigilante who thought he could change Gotham. And but the sounds of it he was succeeding.

Jane knew she had lost him.

Her lips curled up into a depressing smile, she had never even found out why the fuck those cats were in his apartment.

Her smile faded, she should leave.

Raising her new body, the one in which he had left all of his scars and damage, she slowly walked towards the hall. She used the walls for support and left that apartment without looking back.

She had known men like him, yes, the type of men that would set you on fire just to watch you burn.

The type you would dance in the flames for.

* * *

 


End file.
